Just Pure Lovely

The Teen Who Could II

Remember our teen who could?   And remember how I was all braggy about him being one of only two cadets to finish their weekend tasks so far (after he'd finished 4 of 6 weekend cycles of Emergency Services School for the Civil Air Patrol)? 

Well, I'm about to be even more braggy now. 

His officer, sergeant-colonel, whatever-the-title (I'm such a civilian) emailed this week and said, "Did B tell you that he was selected as Best Cadet of the Cycle in February?"

Uh, no. 

So I yelled for "B", our 14yo cadet to come.  "Hey, that brownie you mentioned that you got in front of everyone from the chief-officer-guy...you said you thought it was for finishing tasks."

"Yeah."

"Soooooo, it wasn't for finishing tasks.  It was because you were selected as Best Cadet of the Cycle!!!!!!!!!"  At this point I jumped up and hugged him super tightly.  If he wasn't 6'4", he'd have fallen over.

"Yeah, okayyyy, Mom," he said, backing off.  "I knew it was for something, but wasn't sure what."

Clearly, I'm the more excitable one of the two of us.  

Again, I'm amazed that this kid who I thought was kinda lazy is actually not.  Obviously, if something interests and challenges him, he's a go-getter.  I'm excited about that!

But I feel pretty badly - downright rotten, to be honest - for assuming he was lazy and especially for mentally putting that label on him.  This was a good wake-up call to me to believe in the kid, work on good habits, and motivate him to do even those things that are not interesting or challenging.

Now that I know, I have all sorts of things I want him to do! ;)

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Aw. I love them so much.

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The Teen Who Could

On Friday, I wrote on my Facebook status: "Sending our 14yo off to the woods of Alabama again for the weekend. After having a teenagery morning with him, I don't think I'll miss him for the first 10 minutes."

We had just sent our 14yo to a Wing Emergency Services School with the Civil Air Patrol for the 4th weekend of 6.  During these weekends, he has learned to perform different emergency services, like finding "Fred*," a fallen "pilot" who "crashed."  Fred must be found in the dark, using only a red lens flashlight and accompanied by one other cadet (just a kid, too, yikes!).   Our cadet has also had to create a shelter from a tarp and sleep in the woods several nights, something he actually enjoys.

(*Fred, of course, is a stuffed dummy.)

I'd had a rough Friday morning with our cadet before he left on this latest trip.  It's not his fault that I'm becoming less and less intelligent as he gets older (I remarked to a friend Friday that I need a t-shirt that says on the front, "I'm always wrong."  Back:  "My teenager lets me know.")

We get along so well and love each other to bits, but as he gets older, the hair-pulling moments occur almost as often as they did when he was 2.  Our clashes are ridiculous.  Friday morning, the satellite wasn't working.  Frustrated at how long it was taking our teen to find the right cord behind the t.v., I said, "It's the black one. Power cords are always the black ones." He quickly corrected me, "Technically, Mom, they're not always black.  They're sometimes grey or white...."  I wish I had never taught him a word like "technically." 

Our teen has a happy disposition and is quite an easy kid to have around.  Usually.  It's those unusual moments that get me, the biggest that I worry over his seeming lack of motivation.  He has to be told to do the dishes, told to clean his room, told to do his math.  I want him to feel so compelled to complete things that I never have to tell him to do anything!  I worry over it sometimes, worrying over the "what ifs?"  What if he'll become a lackadaisical beggar at 30 because I wasn't there to tell him to go to work?!?  My man, the more level-headed parent in this family, doesn't worry at all, knowing teen boys quite well from his experience as one.

By Sunday evening, when our teen arrived home, I had missed him, of course.  I was so excited to see him that I gave him the biggest of hugs.

He rested, ate birthday cupcakes, unpacked his gear, then finally got around to telling me, quite casually, that he's one of only 2 cadets - out of about 100 - who have completed their tasks so far.  These are tough tasks.  Ones that would require motivation and determination and someone who is not lackadaisical..  Tasks, these tasks:

I'm so proud of him for such a big accomplishment.  I'm not proud of me for doubting him.  So, to myself, and to you, if you're a mama reading this:  Keep going.  Keep assigning chores.   Keep reminding.  Keep praying.  Keep allowing the I-know-it-all comments to breeze by. Keep believing in the kid.

I think our consistency just might be rewarded. 

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10

 He's 10!  Our little guy has finally (in his opinion; it was too soon for me) reached the double digits.

For his birthday, we let him choose what we did with our day.  The beach? The bay? The movies?  He chose: home. 

He said, "Why should we go anywhere else?  We have everything I want right here."

Why, indeed?  He'll never know how much his choice warmed my mama-heart. 

He then gave me a list of all the yummy things he'd like me to make....such a big list that we had to spread it over 2 days.  That choice didn't warm my mama-heart so much - it was a daunting list!

After plenty of Xbox 360 and before Monopoly and brownies ("not cake"), we took a walk up the hill to the abandoned farm field where the straw blows in the breeze as beautiful as a rolling ocean, sounding like gently rolling waves. I know that sounds like an over-the-top-metaphor (yeah, okay, it is), but I really do think of the ocean every time I see and hear a field of wheat or straw. 

The kids - 3 of them - sat down for a bit of nature journaling, drawing Pnut, our obviously-staying-stray, and the wheat.  Our big fella and Daddy explored further down the field and through the woods to the river.

I hope our little guy will always remember his 10th birthday as a warm, happy day.

That would warm my mama-heart, too.

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On Motherhood & Its Sacrifices

Like you, maybe, I have had to give up opportunities in this season while the children are young.  For now, my priority needs to be family instead of so many things I want or want to do.  No, I don't for a nanosecond wish that I was free of these kids, this man, this house and the responsibilities those require.  But, still, sometimes ...... well, honestly, sometimes the sacrifice hurts a little bit.

Like, tonight, I'm sitting here looking over the Disney Social Media Moms Celebration itinerary, and thinking, "Dadblame it, it sure is hard to swallow that dream of going there"  (my name is still in the jar; maybe we can still make it happen...).   And I'm reading the tweets and Facebook statuses of those gals going to Blissdom '10 and wishing that I could have coughed up the registration fee for that one, too. But I just couldn't. The ballerina needs ballet lessons, you know, and the cadet needs new boots.  They all need food.  Often.  Like, daily.  It's crazy how fast money and time disappear around here.

But this isn't about money or time.  It's about sacrifices.   I do want to make sacrifices for this family; they're so terrific, I'd live under a tree just to be with them!  But.  Still.  It does sometimes sting a little bit when something I really want can't happen.  

And so, a few minutes ago, to slap my face and remind myself what matters, I Googled an old dormant blog of mine for a quote that meant a lot to me when the kids were little:

"As I sat in the grey bathrobe four babies

had nestled against while they nursed,

my brain started clanging this jubilant message: 

There are no shackles in this house, this is no jail. 

These kids are your ticket to freedom like nothing you have ever tasted,

the kind that is not hinged on TV appearances or writing for Life magazine

or being a size six again. 

It's the liberation that comes from the sheer act of living itself. 

When you stop to be where you are, then your life can really begin."

~ Iris Krasnow

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2 Things that Matter to Me

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Blessings Aplenty

I felt a little down when I paid the mortgage last week.  It took up nearly all of our 2-week  paycheck, making Christmas look like it’ll be a handmade-like-it-or-not affair, and the  grocery list edited down to cheaper meals like potato soup, chili, and beans and rice.  I like those things, but Christmas goodies call for …butter. Lots of butter.  And pecans and chocolate.  Lots of chocolate.

Then I slapped my cheek. 

So I got all Pollyanna on myself and decided that instead of thinking "That darn bank took nearly all our paycheck and the insurance company is surely run by robbers,"  I should think, “Wow.  Another month in this castle.”

“Castle” it is not, really, with a leak in the verandah roof, a big unpainted patch in our bedroom, and mattresses and couches that are begging to R.I.P. in the county dump, but then again…castle it is, as it is much more than so many in the world have and it really is quite nice when you turn a blind eye to its bad points.

So.  I get another month in this castle. 

"And what about that tight grocery budget?" Well, thought the Pollyanna Me, when on vacation we don’t fill up a pantry and freezer to the brim like I prefer to do at home.  Instead, we meal plan (gasp!), thinking ahead and getting just what we’ll need for that time. Why not meal plan as if we're on vacation for a month in this castle?

So.  I get another month to work on making menu-planning a new habit.

Today I slapped my cheek again.

I read of a blogger who lost her 2 year old son in a drowning accident yesterday afternoon (while Daddy is away at war), then I read of another blogger who normally writes about her child’s cancer but can no longer write – or even talk - because she had a stroke near Thanksgiving, and

It

Occurred

To

Me

That I don’t have any reason at all...not at All...to feel poorly about a tight paycheck or a low pantry or a castle that needs repairs.

We have our babies, we have each other, and we have our health.

That’s blessings aplenty.

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Our Ballerina, the Cow

This week, it's all about the dance.  Our ballerina is performing in Jack & the Beanstalk this upcoming Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.  She is - brace yourself - a cow in the performance.  Her cow portrait is on posters all throughout our little town...

Those are her legs at the front of the cow.  You know, the pretty legs at the front of the pret...never mind, I can't lie.  That cow is so not pretty! 

This is all making for great teasing material from her big brother, as you can imagine.  He likes to say things like, "My sister is such a cow!"  He hasn't seen the costume yet.  Oh, dear. 

Soon I'll post some photos I took of our ballerina while she was looking quite a bit prettier in class.   I don't want you to remember her as such a cow.

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Today, I Am...

• Chauffeuring...the ballerina to practice after practice, and
• Chauffeuring...the teenager to teen thing after teen thing, then
• Wondering...why I'm losing touch with "me"
• Realizing...that with all this chauffeuring, I'm not taking time to fill "me" up, so I'm
• Planning...some "me" time this week for...
• Crocheting...a secret for someone for Christmas
• Reading..."Writing for the Soul" by Jerry B. Jenkins
• Photographing...cotton fields
• Writing...something or other
• Thanking...the two little ones for not asking me to chauffeur them as well

 
What are you up to today?

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An Open Email to Our Oldest Two Kids

B and b,

Thank you for loving each other. 

It's the greatest gift you could give me.

I love you both.

All the way to the moon.

And back.

~ Mama

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